The Scrap Heap: Fire Emblem Edition
by Hakuei Shirei
Summary: aka "random FE drabbles and one-shots that may or may not be able to fit into any actual Fanfic"... Each Scrap will be Rated Separately with Warnings for any triggers which may occur. They are scraps, and may be incomplete. Ideas and such that I may or may not post inside as well. Each Scrap may or may not have summary/blurbs in them. All FEA atm. S1: Colors, S2: Why?, S3: Birth
1. Colors (Feat: Fem Robin Centric)

**The Scrap Heap: Fire Emblem Edition**

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 **A/N:** So, I've had this sitting in my docs for a while now. And it's not the only one, but it's definitely my favorite so far.

I won't spoil things for you, but suffice to say this is an AU to the actual game, though still set in the FE World.

Oh, and there are omake. This is a stand-alone one shot, that may get more posted for it. I've gotten quite far in the planning stages, honestly.

Other than that, I've given this Robin a different name. (I have too many to call them all Robin, not to mention that I tend to spend too much time researching names and such especially for my characters.)

Set post marriage, of course. How else would we get our cute little Mor-Mor (Morgan)?

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fire Emblem. Only some of the games, a twist on our beloved Robin, and a Robin Cosplay I'll hopefully be wearing to Otakon this year.

As a side note, I will probably mostly be posting for FE:A, but may occasionally post for the other FE!Verses.

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 **Scrap 001. Colors** (Rated K+ for fluffy things and some chaos)

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Had she not been Grima's chosen, she would, mostly likely, have inherited her mother's coloring. Or so she assumed, based upon the tint of her otherwise silvery white hair. Considering that Validar, her birth father, was extremely ashen skinned, she supposed she took more after her mother in general.

She had to wonder if it was simply a _thing_. Especially when her little Morgan ended up looking far too much like herself despite being male. Well, either way, he'd probably end up being a heart-breaker. Pretty boys tended to be, after all, and he definitely looked far more effeminate than masculine -she doubted he would ever be able to maintain a substantially muscular form like his father. Even his elder sister's muscles tended to be more wiry than obvious. She wasn't sure if it was simply because she was from _his_ line, or if it was due to her own bloodline. Still, she definitely took far more after her father than herself.

Still, she supposed it was better than being entirely muscular. After all, very few women could really pull that buff, manlier look off.

And it wasn't like her red hair and personality didn't already give away who her father was.

Gangrel was a very hard person to ignore, really. Especially with his rather...loud...personality.

Honestly, Rioran wasn't quite sure just how she'd fallen in love with the 'tyrant king'. All she knew was that she had become fond, and then attached to him. And now? Well, she could honestly say that she loved the crazy man, quirks and all. (But then, she wasn't exactly normal either, especially considering that she'd been raised as the vessel of Grima. In fact, she was probably even more socially stunted than Gangrel had been before they'd….ended up together? How the hell had they ended up becoming friends in the first place?)

Still, if there was one thing that she knew for sure. It was that she loved him, and the joy he'd brought her. The family she'd been given (Validar really wasn't the best father around, to be honest. She was more the 'vessel' to him than a daughter), and the inexpressibly bright color he'd brought to her otherwise dull world.

Yes, she thought, watching her two children running around outside on the castle grounds.

Even if her life hadn't started out all rainbows and roses, she was still content -happy even- with her life as it was now.

She smiled, unsurprised as a pair of strong arms slipped around her waist, and a head rested on the shoulder beside hers.

"What'cha lookin' at…love?"

Her smile grew and she chuckled as she motioned towards the two children playing below them.

"Our children," she murmured, leaning her weight against his, resisting the urge to giggle as he nuzzled her neck with a sigh and a grin.

"Heh, looks like they're gettin' along well, eh?" He smirked, eyes softening with fondness as he watched his son shriek when his sister turned 'round to chase him with a 'roar'.

She hummed agreement, content in the warmth and love radiating around her.

* * *

 **OMAKE 1 (It's a little long, but here's Omake Number 1!)**

"B-but sis, I really don't think that's such a great idea…"

"Oh, hush Morgan! I know what I'm doing!" The redhead grinned, finding a suitably large enough stick to work as a staff, as she ignored her worrywart little brother. "I can take care of us just fine!"

"But…" Morgan barely got a word out before he was hushed.

"I said we're going an' that's final!" his sister declared, "Mom and Da need some time without us, anyways. Especially you!" she told him, half leering at her momma's boy little brother.

Morgan shrunk, "I- But I-" he wilted under her leering. Though he looked up to both their parents, he definitely looked up to his mother most. Skilled in blade and magic, she was amazing! How could he not?

Between their mother and father, their mother was definitely the smarter and more skilled. Sure, their father had more power, but that had nothing on their mother's intellect.

"...do you really think I cling to her too much…?" he asked meekly, a morose expression on his face.

His sister sighed, turning back around from her search to look at him. "...kinda… Now c'mon, and stop being a little sissy, Mor! We're going on an adventure if it's the last thing we do!"

Morgan yelped and ducked as the stick was swung in his direction, "Ronnie!"

"Eheh...Whoops? Sorry, Mor," his sister grinned sheepishly, "Now c'mon! Let's go!"

"Wha- N-no! It's too dangerous! Especially when you can't aim that stupid stick!" he exclaimed, too shaken to properly filter his thoughts as per usual.

Ronnie paused. "Oh? Ya sayin' I can't aim wi' this thing…?" she asked, eyes gleaming.

Morgan gulped, "Yes… I mean no! I mean…. W-wait… Ronnie…" he started, backing away, eyes widening as his sister advanced, "Rhona, c-c'mon….please don't do this- don't-!" he yelped again, ducking even as he tried to run away.

"AHHHHH!" he shrieked, running away. Biting down on the urge to yell for his mother (his sister was right that he tended to cling to her for everything, after all), Morgan shrieked and ran, ignoring the fact that he was screaming like a girl, as Rhona roared and ran after him, swinging that giant stick.

She was going to knock his head off!

Too busy running to think properly (the child was far too panic prone when pressured), Morgan didn't realize when his sister had manipulated him into running into the very forest he'd been trying to keep him away from.

"AHHHH! SOMEBODY HELP! SHE'LL GONNA KILL ME!" he screamed. Flailing as if it would in any way be able to keep her away.

Eyes bright and grinning madly, Ronnie chased after her brother, looking far too much like her father at the moment as she tried to stifle the predatory pride she felt as her little brother started screaming and flailing.

Success!

After all, just because she was less strategy inclined didn't mean she wasn't smart! She was just a different kinda smart was all!

She had a predator's instincts, after all!

* * *

 **OMAKE 2**

She watched her two youngest at play, laughing and giggling as they ran around the castle courtyard.

A pair of wirey, muscled arms slipped around her waist. "Hm, what'cha lookin' at, love?" the familiar, gruff voice asked.

Robin grinned, turning to kiss her lover's cheek. "Hello, Sully. Done with Kjelle?" she mused, relaxing in the taller woman's embrace.

"M'hm, so what exactly _are_ ya lookin' at, love?" the red-headed knight asked, peeking curiously past her shoulder to find the source of her lover's amusement.

"Oh, just our youngest two," Robin smiled, leaning a little more into the embrace. Finding that old spell that would allow for two women to get pregnant had possibly been the best investment of her life. Especially when Chrom himself showed an interest in a similar spell.

But really, the Prince and the Thief… Who knew? She mused, tuning back into what her beloved wife was saying.

"Ah, those two brats, huh? Well, looks like they're havin' fun, I guess," the other woman grunted, expression still visibly softening despite her rough words. She was a real softie underneath all that muscle, after all.

And it was just one other thing she loved about the red-headed charger.

The two watched as their eldest daughter appeared and was practically tackled by the two youngest.

Robin chuckled. Oh yes, finding and touching up that spell had probably been the best idea she'd even had.

Joining Chrom's Shepherds notwithstanding.

* * *

 **OMAKE 3 (A more normal ending, follows Omake 1)**

Gangrel grinned, chuckling as he watched his kids run out of sight before nuzzling his wife again, a slight rumble issuing from his throat.

"So," he started rather nonchalantly (or so he thought, his wife just raised a brow as she turned a little to face him), a sly grin sliding onto his face once the shrieking children were no longer in view. "Now that the kids are gone….

"What say we have a little fun of our own, mm~~?"

* * *

End Notes: Yup. GangrelxRobin. It's a thing, and I tend to spoil myself. Their support was just so... I had to do it. But GanRobin in game is a bit too late, since Robin would likely be attached by then, so AU it was.

And yes, Fem!Robin x Sully. It's a thing. Ish. That omake's set in pseudo-canon!verse.

But anyway, I wonder who everyone thought she was paired with until Gangrel was revealed? Heehee! What Fem!Robin pairing do you support? I'd love to know!

Hopefully I'll be able to spruce up and post the other FE:A thing I'm working on soon. Poor Morgan, hehehehe...


	2. Why Would You Even? (Morgan Centric)

**The Scrap Heap: Fire Emblem Edition**

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 **A/N:** I give up. I can't think of anything else to write for this right now, so you get this...sort of one-shot. I likely will add more to it, but for now, this is enough. I'll figure out more if I ever get to it.

Summary: In which Morgan has to be the totally responsible one. It's not fun.

Alt!Summary: The kids are forced to be the mature ones when all the adults are turned into children due to a stray/messed up curse.

Or so the summary would go if anyone other than Morgan was the main this time around.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fire Emblem. Only the games I bought and the art I may or may not have doodled. Oh, and plot, of course.

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 **Scrap 002. Why Would You Even Do That?!** (Rated K+ for kiddy chaos and a somewhat stressed Morgan)

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Morgan shivered, carefully glancing every which way before checking past the corner of the hall.

No one in sight.

Good. Repressing a sigh of relief, the adolescent walked out into the hall, safe from any and all attack.

Or so he thought.

SPLAT!

"..." Morgan took a deep breath, trying to quell the panic induced by the sudden splatter of….something on his person.

Reaching a hand up, he wiped some away from his eyes before looking down at the substance in his hand.

"..." Alright. No. That was it. This was going to end now, damnit. He couldn't take any more of having to sneak around his own home, when he could avoid it. This entire situation had been just ridiculous, and he was going to put a stop to it.

….As soon as he found the group of miscreants that had started this in the first place.

* * *

"Why would you even do that?!" Morgan railed, too busy to notice that his audience had long since stopped paying attention as the tactician-in-training paced agitatedly, ranting entirely over the idiocy of the prank war.

"And- Hey! Are you even listening!" Morgan scowled, staring down at the group of children that had once been the adults in his life.

Bored eyes stared back at now eldest person of the group.

"Yeah, yeah. No more pranks, right?" the child Vaike sulked, grumbling and scowling. "But we definitely won either way, right Chrom!" the blonde loudmouth boasted.

Beside him, the blue haired princeling nodded, "Yeah! There's no way the girls could beat us!" he agreed, using bravado he didn't actually feel, as the boy was surprisingly shy as a child.

On the girl's side, Lissa huffed. "Yeah right! There's no way your group could beat ours! Stupid big brother!"

"Hey!" Chrom yelped, pouting when Lissa simply stuck her tongue out at him.

"Not like we could lose with us on the team anyways!" she grinned, turning to one of her 'new' friends, and one of the masterminds of the group. "Isn't that right, 'lettie!"

Reflet grinned sheepishly, nodding almost meekly, as the attention was turned to her. Even at a young age, the girl had been very good with strategy. Perhaps why she was such a good tactician, as she turned the board to look at things from every angle possible.

"S-sorry you got stuck in the trap, Mr. Morgan…" she apologized, the weak smile she'd been sporting dying away when she noticed the look on Morgan's face.

Morgan blinked, uncomfortable with the idea of his own mother treating him like a stranger. It was….difficult...to stay angry at her, especially since he'd admired her so much…

"No, I- i-it's fine," he blurted out, wincing as it came out rushed due to the discomfited feeling caused by the morose expression on his mother (and that was his mother, holy shit, mom was so cute as a kid!)'s face.

"I mean… It's not fine, but I do understand that you didn't mean to get me in that trap," he sighed, trying to correct his words before the kids decided it meant free reign on their own miniature war front.

"...And just Morgan's fine," he added, almost lamely as he realized he'd not been able to do so yet.

Why the others had to have chosen or happened to be away now, he wasn't sure, but… Well, on one hand, he was grateful there was no one around to see his mess-ups or the kids' situation, but on the other, he really wished he had more hands -and eyes especially- to help watch the little miscreants.

One or two -maybe even three- of them together was fine, but any more than that and there tended to be some kind of clashing. Especially when considering that there were quite a few little...hellions...in each group.

He sighed again, shaking himself out of his thoughts. "It's still not okay to pull these sort of things," he frowned, trying to look and be as responsible as he could. "What if someone actually got hurt because of it?" he asked, forcing himself not to just wilt and give in when he saw some of the guilt trodden and morose looks that he received (his mother's especially, because...damnit, this was so not what he was used to! Since when did he have to deny his mother anything?! His own mother!).

Seeing Vaike about to open his mouth again, Morgan shot him a look -as well as to any of the others that looked like they wanted to dissent or throw a tantrum or even just leave.

"No, don't start. Just… Just listen to me, okay? I'll…" he paused, trying to think of the exact words he wanted to use. How had his mother taught him what things were okay and wrong without hurting his feelings when he unmeaningly did something that could have caused something to go wrong -or even badly?

Morgan himself had made such mistakes in his younger, and more naive days, after all. Even before the whole amnesia thing had kicked in.

* * *

End Notes: There may be more. There might not. But if anyone decides they want to try something similar to whatever ideas I post, you're free to. I'd just like a link so I can at least take a look, ne?

As a side note, I have a question. Do you prefer the English or Japanese version of the game? (Dub or actual game?) I personally prefer the Japanese version, but that's just me. The English version has a charm all its own, though the dubbing does bother me at times.


	3. Birth of a New Avatar (Validar Centric)

_**Author's Note ;;** Honestly speaking, I was going to do something for Fates, but just can't seem to get to writing anything coherent aside from ideas being listed. I haven't even finished that game, so maybe some other time. (I have too many ideas for Awakening let alone Fates to just pick something to write anyway.)_

 _For now, have another Plegian!Robin AU. This time it's Validar-centric, and takes place way before the events that would happen in canon, if they did at all._

 _Tried to stay vague on mama-birb, but I do have a lot of different AU's and ideas about Robin/Reflet's mom, so...yeahhh._

 _Maybe I'll try to do something for my twins!verse next time..._

 _But yeah, have anxious-papa!Validar. /throws drabble at you._

* * *

 **Scrap 003. Birth of a New God-Avatar** (Rated PG-13/T for mentions of death)

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Validar paced in front of the room, nervous in spite of himself.

He knew his wife (was she really his wife? He still couldn't believe that a woman like her would have accepted him, no matter his standing) might not make it. It was common, after all, even with healing spells available. But to possibly lose their child as well? After all the work that had been put into ensuring that the child would be the next vessel of Grima…

The tall man shook his head, forcing himself to calm down even as another pain filled yell echoed down the stone halls of the castle.

Surely…

Surely she would survive? The chance was small, but…

She had been so excited.

And she was such a strong woman…

Yes, there was a chance she might leave if she found out about what had been done to their unborn child, but…

She would accept it, right?

She would…

She…

"...Lord Validar….?" A solemn voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he whirled to face the cleric that stood before him.

He opened his mouth, voice failing as he attempted to ask…

It was so quiet now.

Had it… was it over? What-

"I'm sorry," the two words he hadn't wanted to hear. Two words that signified the end….of something. Of…

"Your wife... I'm afraid lady Liora...did not make it," the woman spoke quietly.

No. No, no!

"The...The child…?"

She bit her lip, "She...managed to give us a name before she….faded…" the woman spoke carefully, kindly, almost.

But even the softest of words couldn't stop the harsh pain they would inflict.

"Then the child…" He swallowed.

He'd known there was a chance.

He'd known but…

"I'm afraid she'll be rather frail for a while," the cleric was still speaking, explaining as softly as she could. "But she managed to make it through, I know this isn't the best of times, but...you are officially a father, milord, she's a girl," she continued. "There were some complications, but we managed to save the child, at least."

It wasn't much of a condolence, but…

The woman hesitated, "I'm afraid there was… something….You might need to take a look at her before we can really say…" She clearly couldn't speak or explain…

Well, if things had gone well (but they hadn't) then the child…

But there had been complications? Validar took a deep breath and calmed himself. He was better than this. He couldn't let such a thing….affect him.

He had already dedicated his life to Grima, after all.

(But you would have given it for her, a voice whispered from the back of his mind. He would have given everything for her had she survived... for the woman who had managed to give him… happiness… even if only for a short while.)

"I'll see her. Is there anything that needs to be taken care of otherwise? Worries about the...child's….health?" He asked, voice cool and commanding as he walked swiftly into the room, the poor cleric having to rush just to catch up let alone keep up with the far taller man's longer legs.

Walking past the curtain that had been set up, he paused, watching for a moment as the midwife and the cleric's assistant tended to his dead wife's body…

….She almost looked as if she were simply sleeping, despite the amount of sweat on her body. She looked so peaceful…

He swallowed thickly as the women covered her face with a white cloth, turning his attention away to the midwife's assistant caring for the quiet newborn that had somehow survived.

She looked worried, rocking the child and making soft shooshing noises even despite the fact that the child was silent in her arms. He might not have noticed its breathing if not for the very slight movement of the blankets when the woman stilled.

"Mary-Anne, bring the child over, will you?" The midwife called, as she and the cleric switched places.

"Yes, midwife," the girl answered obediently, nervously approaching the intimidating man. A man who'd just lost his wife and gained a child. It didn't help that he was so tall and scary looking, however, especially when everything about him was so dark.

"M'lord," the midwife greeted, carefully accepting the bundle from her assistant, and finally giving him a glimpse of his child.

His breathing stopped for a moment, and his heart...it...hurt a little, to look at the beautiful baby girl that looked so much like his wife, though the slight curl of the short tufts of hair indicated that she might have his own mess of waves to deal with.

She looked to be a perfect mix at the moment, and would surely be just as beautiful as -if not more so than- her mother.

As he carefully accepted the bundle, however, and the child shifted, he froze, catching sight of that symbol as the child began moving, flailing about.

The Mark of Grimleal.

They had succeeded.

Liora's death hadn't been in vain.

Their child would be the Vessel of a God.

Of their God, Grima.

(But first, he'd have to get rid of the pesky midwife and cleric -and their assistants, of course.

As soon as he got what information he needed, anyways. There were better healers to be found all around, after all.)


	4. Abyss Black Blood (Robin Centric)

_**Author's Note ;;**_ _Just realized I haven't really been updating like I should be. But then, I've been pretty busy. Anyway, have a thing I wrote for a prompt on tumblr. The prompt was "_ Humans start out at birth with milk white blood. The more crimes they commit, the darker their blood becomes. One day, you meet your soulmate. Skip a few years, and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips, falls, and exposes black blood…"

 _Prompt found of Tumblr from the writing-prompt-s tumblr._

 _An FE13/Awakening AU with a gender neutral Robin, 3rd Person Perspective. Pick your own lover/spouse._

 _Might or might not continue this, but this is from a while ago, back in September, maybe?  
_

* * *

 **Scrap 004. Abyss Black Blood** (Rated PG-13)

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Being amnesiatic as they were, perhaps it wasn't a surprise that they seemed not to know so much of the world. I mean, come on, amnesia, right? They could barely remember their own name, let alone certain other things. And yet it was balanced out by the fact that Robin was simply inquisitive by nature. Meaning they easily devoured whatever they could learn (some familiar as if they'd known once before, but other not). Learning that everyone was born with milk white blood that steadily became darker with their (conceived?) crimes or sins, though interesting, hadn't had much to do with the tactician. After all, who's to say there wasn't a good reason for it?

And what even constituted as a crime, anyway? Was it simply something that person conceived as a crime or sin? How did it even work? Then again, in a world where magic and dragons existed, perhaps it wasn't so surprising that such a thing could be. And as time went on, the thought was put out of their mind, something not to be thought about since there were few people that hadn't once committed some sort of crime or sin. Even with the belief that what they were striving for was a good and righteous thing, they still had to fight and even kill, after all…

Still, there was always something that would niggle in the back of their mind as they went about their lives. Was their own blood dark in color? Surely it was, with what they'd already done. What about before, though? Before their memories had disappeared into the oblivion they could no longer recall? Had they committed crimes? Committed any heinous enough sins to stain their blood dark?

They didn't know. Despite their curiosity, however, something would always stay their hand when they tried to check. Just a small, tiny cut would have sufficed. But just as much as they wanted to know, they also didn't. After all, what if they'd done something so heinous their blood was dark as the abyss? They didn't think they could handle that, so they left the idea alone, no matter how much their curiosity may have itched. In doing so, they remained careful. As careful as they could possibly be to avoid revealing the possibly horrific truth of their blood.

As time passed, and more joined Chrom's cause, Robin slowly forgot about it, allowing more important worries to take the forefront of their mind. All the way up to the day they had no choice in the matter. And really, it was all because of such a stupid and idiotic little thing. To think that it would be revealed to them in a moment of carelessness as they tripped over one of the very stones Frederick had been so adamant upon clearing up so that no one would trip.

Perhaps Robin had become spoiled by the knight's excessive antics, because, not having expected there to be any potential obstruction in camp of all places, with a pile of books upon another crate of something that they'd been carrying in hand. Robin had gone sprawling. It was stupid, it was embarrassing, and worst of all, they'd managed to cut themselves on a loose nail in the crate as everything spilled across the floor.

Their own blood as well, and all in front of the one they would have least wanted to see such a thing.

Because despite their fears, Robin had not actually expected their blood to be so dark. Everyone had fallen silent, those that had happened to be around, as Robin sat, dazed at the sudden accident. Dazed enough that they hadn't noticed anything but their pounding head as they lifted a bloody arm to their head. Liquid ran down their sleeve, but perhaps it could have been a bottle of ink or some other fluid.

As they groaned and tried to clear their head however, they took in the sudden silence. Vision clearing as they looked around, Robin found wide eyes gazing or gaping at the amnesiatic tactician's person. Despite the overwhelming confusion, however, they barely had time to look at the wound (not throbbing from the tear in their skin) when their lover -their partner, and oh-so-precious other- dragged them away. Despite their protests, Robin was ignored, as they found themselves led to their shared tent, a grim expression on their beloved's face, marred only by the flash of nervousness and anxiety that flickered through their eyes.

Manhandled to sit down at the edge of their bed, Robin found found themself meeting grim but worried eyes as their lover's lips pressed into a firm line.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Confused as they were, Robin could only tilt their head, frowning at this entire situation. "Tell you what?" they asked.

"That your blood was black," was the response they received.

Blood running cold (black blood, black blood, black blood…!), Robin remained speechless. Eyes trailing down to the throbbing wound (being tended to by gentle hands despite their owner's obvious distress), Robin felt the blood drain out of their face. Their blood was pitch black, darker than ink, and…

How could this be? Had they really done something so heinous they could no longer consider themself a person? Had they become a monster before they had become who they were now? (Robin almost didn't want to know.)

Not waiting for a response, their lover continued.

"Did you think I wouldn't accept it?" they asked. "Whatever happened before you lost your memories is something another person did. It's not you. So why didn't you tell me?" They pressed, before whispering their next sentence into the heavy silence. "Did you not trust me…?"

Startled, Robin looked aghast. "Wha- No! That's- I didn't-" They started, horrified by the very thought. After all they'd been together, to imply such a thing…

"Then why?"

Taking a deep breath, Robin sighed. "I- I didn't even know my blood was….black," they pushed out, voice quiet and expression pained. "If I had, I would have told you. I'm sure," looking up at their lover, eyes pleading even despite the wince as alcohol was pouring into the wound to cleanse it, Robin mentally flailed.

 _Just what were they supposed to do in this situation….?_

* * *

 ** _Ending Note ;;_** _The End? Who knows. But yeah, cliff-hanger. This is a pretty short piece (just a little over 1k) and can either be left alone or continued. It's not 100% the prompt, but I wanted to make things as ambiguous as possible. The gender of this Robin, appearance, their/your choice of lover/spouse (depending on said choice)._

 _Anyways, I guess just let me know what y'all think or if you want to see more. I need to practice writing anyways, so…meh. Just don't steal my writing and claim it as your own, it's not nice and makes you a bad person. Not to mention it's rude. I put time and effort into this, after all._

 _But yeah, I guess let me know your thoughts, and I'll see if I can motivate myself to write more or something._


	5. To Hurt & To Comfort (MaleRobin Centric)

_**Author's Note ;;** Second of two tumblr prompt writing practice things, this time from late January. The prompt was "_Someone asked you out as a joke and you're really sad now, so now I'm scared to ask you out for real." _AU. It's not quite this, but it's still something I did?_

 _Anyways, this one's set in FE13 (Awakening). Male!Robin-centric._

Warning: _Gay Ships and_ _(Light?) Angst Ahead._

* * *

 **Scrap 005. To Hurt and To Comfort** (Rated PG-13/T for Angst)

* * *

Robin watched, silent as his best friend (as far as he could remember, anyway) tried not to sob into his hands, shoulders shaking, quivering just that tiny bit as he forced himself to remain strong. He watched, too scared to tell him that there _was_ someone who cared for him that way. Who _loved him for who he was_ , regardless of his faults.

But for once, the forward-charging and seemingly blithe tactician didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to make his _friend_ feel better. Didn't know how to fix _this_ problem, this wound of the soul that hurt him so…

* * *

Robin wasn't sure when he'd realized that he didn't just _like_ his best friend, but that he was _in love_ with him. He didn't know when the casual smiles and friendly shoulder gripping or pats started to make his heart race. Didn't know just when the _thought_ of him would bring a flush to his pale cheeks (thankfully unnoticed by those around him).

Maybe it was when he'd found the other growing just a bit distant upon befriending another man. (He'd told himself that it was just his thing, he was nice to everyone, of course he wanted to make their latest member feel welcome.) Maybe it was when he'd started to talk about this _other_ man with such a bright expression, smile brighter as he talked about this and that, about _that person_ whenever he could. (He was just trying to be nice, he _was_ nice. Maybe too nice sometimes, but that was just him, after all. Kind to a fault.) Maybe it was when he'd seen the two together, walking about town and laughing, having caught sight of them only to feel… _something_ inside him die a little, a distant sound of something as delicate as glass shattering, _him_ shattering, as he stood rooted to the spot, watching as the two merrily went about their day (their _date_ ).

He barely noticed someone calling to him when he turned and hurried away, chest aching, throat tight (constricted), and something hot painting his face a vivid red, head light and foggy as he hurried away (ran away) from the scene.

Chrom didn't seem to notice when the tactician appeared tired and red-eyed in the morning. Or rather, he didn't seem to put much thought into it when the other claimed a headache and possible sickness before being sent to retire to his room and rest.

(Robin wouldn't admit, to anyone but himself, that it would be the first time he'd ever remember crying himself to sleep, to being shaken and unsure of himself despite having awoken on that field without memories and having soldiered on without much care until that point. Because who _was_ he? Was this really him? This…this sad and pathetic person…?)

Kind as he was, Chrom hadn't thought too much but to think that perhaps the other was overworking himself, stressing himself out with the huge task of planning and preparing for the upcoming war. Of being practically second-in-command in all but name as he kept track of every last person and their abilities in the camp.

(That hadn't been it at all. Perhaps it was because he was missing nearly two decades of memories, but despite his status as an amnesiac, Robin had a very, _very_ good memory. And it was practically a cinch for the sword-wielding magician to do such things.)

He spent the rest of the day in bed, staring at his tent wall, as he let the sounds of the camp wash over him, grip tight on his sheets as he tried to tell himself _it didn't matter_.

(But it did.)

And if the white-haired tactician seemed, perhaps, just a little more distant, smile just a bit more false, well, it seemed that he would have been a shoe-in as an actor, because no one seemed to suspect a thing. Perhaps at first, but those 'fears' and feelings were quickly allayed with his usual blithely persona.

Then came the day he came to him for… for _advice_.

(He hadn't thought his heart could hurt anymore, but it seemed it could. Because _this,_ this… _confirmation_ … seemed to hurt just so much worse than the realization that he was in love with his best friend….who was, it seemed, in love with _another_. Oh, the man hadn't come right out and _said_ so, but Robin liked to think he was a good enough tactician to be able to read into the words his friend was -and wasn't- saying. It was important to know those he had to help command so he could know what condition they were in, what they could do and how he could 'lead' them without losing _a_ _single one of them_.)

He pasted on a smile, encouraging his friend. Knowing that he, himself, didn't have a chance, but who wouldn't like the blue-haired lord that was his _best friend?_ He'd simply have to settle for the happiness of his saviour and friend.

Another piece of his heart would shatter then, watching as the nervous yet excited man before him walked away, walked off to find and -possibly- claim another.

(No one would ever know, but had Grima asked him then, _asked for his_ _body_ _then_ …the melancholy man wasn't sure he would have refused.)

And then came the rejection…

Perhaps he -they- should have known that Gaius wouldn't mean anything by the so-called 'dates' he and the other had gone on. But the man was charming in his own rights, and with all that he was showing him… was it truly a surprise that the (ironically) pseudo-sheltered lord would fall for such a person? So full of life, so friendly, so outgoing? The sweet-loving thief might not have meant to, but in the end, he _had_ ended up sweeping the descendant of the first Exalt off his feet.

Had _stolen his heart_ , some might even say. He wasn't a bad person though, as evidenced when, instead of using the lord and letting him continue to think they had a chance, the rogue had done the opposite, doing his best to let him down easy. (It was never easy when it came to matters of the heart, though.)

Robin knew he shouldn't hold it against the other, but how could he not when his best friend was doing his best not to break apart in front of him? When the blue-haired Falchion-wielder's heart was shattering like glass as he tried not to cry?

For once, the white-haired tactician had no idea what to do. No plans, no ideas, _nothing_. And to think that he had been so, so glad to find out that Gaius had rejected the other, the thought that maybe now, just _maybe,_ _he_ would have a chance. Chrom was, quite literally, the world to him, after all. Having been the first person he'd seen, the first person who'd helped him, supported him… The first person in _all of his memory_ to hold out a hand to the amnesia-tic man (adolescent? He wasn't really sure how old he was, but he would like to assume he was an adult, at least).

He was ashamed of the thought, now. Of the feeling of _hope_ that had welled up when Gaius had awkwardly walked past him, clearly not having expected the 'confession' that had likely taken so much of the young lord's courage…

And so here he stood, awkwardly loitering about Chrom's tent, for once at a complete loss of what to do. (Really, he was surprised that Frederick hadn't appeared to shoo him off or question him by this point, if he was being honest.)

It wasn't until a clearly tired and red-eyed lord looked up from his desk as he'd stood, probably pushing his chair back as he did to cross the space that either of them noticed each other. A startled tactician and a somewhat surprised (and embarrassed) lord finding themselves face to face when the tent flap found itself opened.

For a moment, the two stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do, neither willing to look the other in the eye.

"Oh, hey Robin-"

"Chrom! Hi-"

They paused, opening their mouths to apologize for talking over the other before insisting the other go first. It didn't work out well, and instead, the two found themselves standing there before they finally spoke up again.

"You, uh, you want to come in?" Rubbing the back of his neck, Chrom tried to pretend he wasn't as affected as he really was.

Robin swallowed the words in his mouth, knowing that nothing he said now would end well, or, well, not awkwardly or foot-in-mouth at least, so he nodded. "Y-yeah, we can…talk…if you want…" he said at last.

And still, neither looked at the other.

Nodding, Chrom turned back, gesturing for the other to follow, as he entered his tent again, moving to take a seat on his bed so that Robin could take the chair. The two settled easily (actions ingrained by what was now habit), before the awkward air returned.

"So… how'd it go…?" Though he'd known the answer just from looking at both Gaius and Chrom, the question had still slipped through, causing the tactician to wince at the terrible question.

Chrom just gave him a tired smile. "It didn't really 'go'," he said, voice wavering just a bit despite his best efforts, the smile that barely even encompassed half of what it usually did faltering even as he tried to pass it off as a bad joke.

There was a pause, one unsure whether to speak, the other… well, he wasn't sure if he could handle rehashing just what had gone on when he'd… _confessed_.

Finally, he spoke again, turning away from the other's eyes. "He…" he started, pausing and rewording his statement. "I was rejected," he said at last, voice thick as he blinked, walls beginning to crash as he stopped pretending.

And so Robin watched, silent as his best friend (as far as he could remember, anyway) tried not to sob into his hands, shoulders shaking, quivering just that tiny bit as he forced himself to remain strong. He watched, too scared to tell him that there _was_ someone who cared for him that way. Who _loved him for who he was_ , regardless of his faults.

But for once, the forward-charging and seemingly blithe tactician didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to make his friend _feel better_. Didn't know how to _fix this problem_ , this wound of the soul that hurt him so…

He stopped thinking, standing from the seat he'd moved over so they could face each other as they talked. (Though there was much less talking now than there had been on prior occasions.) Without another word he strode the few steps over to the hurting lord's side, settling down and pulling the (thankfully) unarmored man into a hug.

Softly, he spoke. "Go ahead, Chrom. Just… Just let it all out," he told him, doing his best not to grip the other too tightly, heart simultaneously racing and aching with pain. He followed the barely-remembered and distant words in his mind, likely some phantom of a memory before he'd lost them all, something that had once comforted him but now just made him so, so sad. "You'll feel better again afterwards, I promise," he whispered, feeling the wetness on his shoulder as his friend, his crush, _the one he loved_ gave in at last.

It hurt, seeing him hurt. It hurt just as badly (perhaps more so) than what he'd felt _before_ … And if Robin let out a few tears then as well, well, no one had to know.

It would be a while before the other would settle, the time spent with the white-haired male talking about anything and everything, trying to fill the otherwise silent tent with as much soothing and comfort as he did. Never looking at the blunette as his walls crashed, as he let it all out and grieved. For a love lost before it could even begin. For time wasted on what would never be, a first love, and a broken heart.

* * *

When he finally finished, when his tears dried and he could cry no more, when Robin could barely speak from talking so much, Chrom finally found himself feeling empty, exhausted even. But at the same time, his heart felt lighter, and he found himself…content. It wasn't better, not really, but it didn't _hurt_ so much anymore, at the very least. The somewhat slim (for a man, at least) digits running through his hair felt very nice too. The air was quiet, and though the other was no longer talking, he was a comfortable presence at his side.

Chrom was almost reluctant to move, tired (red rimmed) eyes shifting look at the white-haired male. "…Robin…?" the softness of the word, the actual speech seemed to startle the other. He almost protested as the fingers stopped carding through his hair, gently removing themselves as equally tired eyes met his (there was something he hadn't seen there before, or perhaps simply hadn't noticed…and didn't that just make the man feel a little worse, a little guilty at the thought that he'd -even remotely possibly- been neglecting his friend over a crush).

A flicker of _something_ before a soft smile took its place, one that… one that simply seemed _different_ somehow. (He almost cursed himself when he realized it'd made his heart skip a beat. Was he really so fickle…?)

"Feeling better now?" The words, soft as they were, were rather hoarse as well. Guilt welled again as he finally forced himself to move away, straightening from where he'd (and how embarrassing, to have let himself go like that… Though he couldn't deny that he felt a _little_ better now) cried on his friend and comrade's shoulder.

"…Yeah, sorry about that…" _Robin_ , he wanted to say, to speak the other's name, but somehow… Somehow, it felt almost…wrong to do so. At least, for the moment. And yet the other still smiled, somewhat weary if warm.

" 's fine, what are friends fo-r, after all…" And as the other winced, voice cracking a bit from speaking so much, Chrom finally straightened completely, somewhat alarmed by the occurrence.

It wouldn't do if their all-important tactician couldn't speak to relay suggestions and orders, after all! (Or so he told himself as he stood to grab a pitcher of water that Frederick always made sure was close by in case the young lord would need it…. Chrom had never been happier or more thankful for the overly serious and protective man's habits…for once.)

Shoving a cup of water he poured -almost carelessly in his haste- towards the other, he felt just a bit flustered now that he had time to think about what'd happened. "Sorry," he murmured, a tad chagrinned at the situation.

Robin just smiled, appearing almost indulgent as he carefully accepted the cup to avoid spilling any on himself (part of his arms having fallen asleep after awhile and sending somewhat uncomfortable zings down them). Shaking his head, the white-haired male took a sip before speaking. "It's fine, Chrom," the other murmured, finishing his sentence before taking another slow sip. "What are friends for, right?"

And if something…strange passed through his expression, a strange pause in his wording, Chrom might have missed it if he'd glanced away a second sooner. But he hadn't, and it gave him pause.

Frowning, (pushing his thoughts and feelings aside for the moment as he fell back into his prior seating by the other) Chrom stared. Robin giving him a startled glance at the shift in the bedding before turning his attention back to soothing his throat.

Drinking it too quickly wouldn't help, after all. It would take smaller sips to ensure he properly quenched the dry and parched areas of his throat. (He'd never thought water could be considered any kind of delicious, but in that moment, throat finally being soothed, it just… _was_.)

He didn't notice as Chrom studied him, a strange, puzzled expression on his face as he tried to put to word what seemed to be so different about his friend… and why hadn't he noticed until now, he wondered? No, he _knew_ , and thought it hurt, it didn't change the truth that Robin had likely been feeling…down…for lack of another word, while he'd been running around like a love-sick fool.

Startled at the realization (and guilty as well), he wondered, how much of the other appeared tired because of his little…crying jag, and how much was because he'd been doing more work than usual? Because -and it left him feeling somewhat cold as he realized it- _when_ had been the last time he'd really had much work to do? All he'd been doing as of late had been…been _trailing_ Gaius (and oh, how even thinking about the other's name still made his heart twinge) like a love-sick puppy…and perhaps some training and 'chores' (of which there were few, considering he was 'in charge of leading' after all).

Had Robin been covering for him? Been doing all of his work on top of his own in the meantime? Had he _really_ allowed himself to become distracted to the point that -if not for the tactician- he'd have put the entire company at jeopardy?

It was a chilling thought…and left him feeling more guilt than heartbreak as he realized how blind he'd been in his 'love-sickness'.

The blue-haired lord was almost disgusted with himself when he realized it.

* * *

Sipping at the almost blissfully magical healing water, Robin let himself relax a bit, mind too tired to even think about silly crushes or love when he was so busy quenching the dryness of his throat. And if not for the distressed noise that seemed to suddenly sound in the quiet, he might not have noticed anything else at all.

Startled by the sound, he looked up, only to frown as he saw the distress in his friend. Alarm giving him more awareness, mind sharpened as he set the cup down (on the chair, no less) and turned to the other. "Chrom? Is- Is something wrong?" He stared, too worried to think of anything else. Was something wrong? Had he been triggered by some memory? Was he feeling unwell…?

One after the other, all the little options and possibilities ran through his head, chasing away the sudden weariness he'd felt after all was 'well and good'. Though, it seemed, all wasn't as well and 'good' as he'd believed.

The question only seemed to cause the other to feel even more distressed, giving rise to new panic in the white-haired tactician. "Chrom…?!" Half standing, half reaching towards the man he loved (yes, _loved_ ), he almost froze, pausing as the other let out a strange laugh, half-strangled, half bitter in nature.

It was a strange thing to hear from the lord that always seemed to be looking forward…

And then he spoke.

* * *

Was something wrong? Was something _wrong?_ The royal thought, almost disbelieving at how…how _great_ a friend Robin was. (And definitely not just a _good_ one, he'd done so much for him already in the short amount of time they'd known each other…. and had it really only been a few months since the day he'd found the white-haired tactical genius lying in the grass? It felt like it'd been so much longer, sometimes…) Worrying over him, when, first sign of a crush he'd had, the lord had all but forgotten him.

He felt a bitter laugh bubble up past his lips, half guilt-ridden while the other half of him felt disgust at his single-mindedness. His blindness to the bond of friendship, the comrade that should have been so much more important…

"Chrom…?!" Clearly worried, vigilant eyes met his when he looked up, and he gave the other a tired smile.

"I'm a terrible friend, Robin," clearly surprised and startled by the revelation, the other gaped, eliciting a laugh-like breath from the lord.

"What? No! Chrom, you're a _great friend_. Why would you even think such a thing?!" Clearly baffled by the strange turn of events, Robin slowly let himself settle back down beside the man on the bed.

Shaking his head, Chrom gave a smile that looked very much out of place on the man's face. "Robin, I spent so much of the time since…since _Gaius_ arrived hanging around him like some…some lovesick _girl_ ," he all but exclaimed.

"I'm not a good friend, Robin. I…" And here he faltered, shoulders falling a bit as he continued, tired and guilty. "I haven't been a very good friend, let alone a great one. I let my feelings blind me to what was really important!" He was almost tempted to swear off love period…but even he knew that wasn't possible. Emotions were such fickle things, after all… Not even mentioning the way they seemed to sneak up and take hold of you.

"Chrom…"

And yet still, after all of his…his _idiocy_ (Gaius hadn't even liked him _back_ , how could he be such an idiot?) that Robin could still be such a good friend…a _great_ friend…

He felt like he didn't even deserve to know the man.

* * *

Robin stared at his friend, torn between being horrified and…well, how did one feel when someone…when such a thing as this happened? Speechless at the strange turn of events, he waffled for a moment, trying to put thought to word and word to coherent speech.

Finally, after staring at the other's guilt-ridden face for a few moments, he sighed.

"Chrom," he started again, tone…gentler, not wanting to scare his friend. "Look at me?" He asked, reaching out a hand to his friend, wanting him to know just how… how _sincere_ he was being.

He wasn't a terrible friend. He was a _good_ one, a _great_ one even. Where this bout of sudden…lack of confidence? No, this _self-depreciation_ had come from… he didn't know, but this, at least, was something he could (probably) fix. Or at the very least, it was something he could speak honestly of.

Waiting until eyes as blue as his hair met his, Robin spoke up again. "Love does…weird things to people, Chrom. It's not your fault," he all but insisted, knowing by now, at least, that the other was stubborn enough, and -dare he say it- _idiot_ enough to refuse to listen if he did. And when the other opened his mouth, he reiterated. "It's _not your fault_ , Chrom," he said, cutting the other off. "Yes, maybe you could have done better in some cases," he continued, ignoring the other as he rushed the next words so he could get to his _point_ -and not wanting the other to think it justification of whatever it was that had spawned the belief that he was 'such a terrible friend'.

"That doesn't mean you're a bad friend, though. Everyone has their moments, Chrom….even someone as _perfect_ as you," he tacked on, half-smiling and ensuring that the other knew he was only half-teasing. When it elicited a surprised laugh, he grinned, pleased that he could make the other smile, if only for a little while. (He ignored the little butterflies that decided to start fluttering about again.) "But the fact that you could figure it out, that you (probably) won't do it again," because if he knew Chrom as well as he thought he did now, the other would strive to do his best to ensure that such a thing would never happen again. He was that much of a good person, faults and all. "That makes all the difference, Chrom."

Somewhat embarrassed by his little spiel, the tactician released the man, eyes wavering as he looked away. Had he really said all that to the man? Oh gods (dear Naga?), please don't let the other figure out that _he_ had a crush on him from this. That…that was just, no, please. He just wasn't ready.

A soft chuckle caught his ear, drawing his attention back to the warm smile that now donned his best friend's features. "Thanks, Robin."

A smile of his own -more a grin than anything- founds its own way to his face. "As long as you're feeling better," he said at last.

"Yeah… Yeah, I definitely am…" The blunette murmured, suddenly finding the entire situation hilarious all of a sudden as he let out a chuckle.

"You really know how to make a guy feel appreciated," Chrom mused, matching his _friend's_ chagrinned expression.

And maybe it was love, maybe it wasn't. But in that moment, Robin knew he would give anything to make sure the blue-haired lord would be happy.

Maybe the other would never love him the same way he did him, but just sharing this moment, this ridiculous scene with his _best friend_ , well…

It really was worth it. This bond that he would treasure forever, even if his love faded or even grew evermore (because how could he _not_ love Chrom? Really). Even if he ended up pining later, he…he wouldn't regret it.

Because if there was anything he would ever regret in his life, it would never, ever be meeting the blue-haired Falchion-wielding royal he knew today. He didn't expect the other to feel anywhere close to the love he did now, but… Right now, to the tactician who was officially head over heels for his lord, it was the little things -the shared laughter, the smiles- that really got to him.

That gave him happiness. Because no matter what, no matter how much it had hurt to see the other fall for someone else, Robin didn't think he could ever regret his feelings, regret meeting the man that he loved as they shared a sweet, simple moment of happiness in the here and now.

Really, he was simply too in love -too happy and content as he basked in the moment- to even think he might not.

Friendship would be enough for now…

It _had_ to be.


End file.
